


Despite Everything...

by AddictedtoParagon



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-30
Updated: 2013-08-01
Packaged: 2017-12-21 21:24:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/905108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AddictedtoParagon/pseuds/AddictedtoParagon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is based on the idea that the female mage still existed, even with the true Warden roaming around. It picks up with Jowan's escape, and proceeds from there in line with the mage-warden story, but deviates abruptly given that Neria is not the true Grey Warden.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Glimmer

She’d been such a fool! 

The Templars circled in, the main hall shrinking as their presence dominated the room. Neria took a step back, her gaze whipping about for the first enchanter. Was this her reward for betraying Jowan to follow the rules? How could she have been so stupid as to trust that the first enchanter would look out for her?

She closed her eyes, steeling herself before lifting her chin faintly. She’d done nothing wrong, and she’d warned Jowan that his path was pure folly. Mages and Templars could not coexist. She knew that. Maker how well she knew that. Her eyes locked on the stiff unyielding frame Ser Cullen. He was golden strength wrapped in duty and purpose. 

As she gazed at him, she knew why she’d let herself wander down such a stupid path. Jealousy. That Jowan could unite with his Templar lover when all she had to cling to were midnight fantasies and an abandoned leather glove that she kept tucked safely beneath her pillow. Oh her reasons had developed along the way, but that first twinge…that had been pure selfish anger and now Andraste would see that she paid for it. 

She forced her attention to the doorway where Knight Lieutenant Gregoir was marching forward. He was angry, but there was no surprise there. “This looks bad.” She murmured.

“Not a thrall at all. She appears fully cognizant of her choices.” Gregoir shook his head, his mouth twisting with disgust. “I’m disappointed in you Lilly.” He turned his head as though looking at her were unpalatable and added, “Take her to Aeonar.”

“T-the mage prison?” Lilly inched back. “Please. Not there.”

“Execute the blood mage.” Gregoir continued as though the priestess had not spoken, and Neria cringed. She had no love for Jowan, but she had not wished death upon him. She’d assumed they’d make him tranquil as planned. Not this. The Templars marched forward, intent on their duties, and she closed her eyes, not wishing to watch.

“No!” Jowan’s voice ricocheted through the room followed by the clatter of his staff. Neria jerked, her eyes popping open as they locked on him. For a moment the world seemed to slow down, time itself freezing as she watched her friend yank a small dagger from his hip and slash it across his palm. 

Blood magic. There was no greater sin. Somehow she felt the Chantry would excuse even murder before it accepted the use of blood magic. She stood paralyzed, but the moment didn’t last long as Jowan released blast of energy that threw the entire ground back in a telekinetic slam just powerful enough to allow him to run. 

She still couldn’t wrap her mind around the facts. Jowan had resorted to Blood Magic. As if the Templars didn’t hate them enough, he actually thought to justify the use of that horrid alternative? She glanced at the First Enchanter and knew no matter how selfish her reasons, she’d been right to tell him. She watched the Gregoir dispatch the Templars even as they hauled Lilly from the room. She was just turning back to Irving when her attention was snagged by Cullen, who was watching her with something akin to…what? Was it approval? Was she reading more into his expression because she was so desperate for it to be more? She licked her lips, and he seemed to realize she’d caught him staring for he whipped away and followed after the retreating Templars. 

“Neria?” Irving prodded gently. 

She turned back to him and smiled weakly. “Sorry First Enchanter…”

“Nonsense child. Come along, you’ve work to do.” 

“Of course first enchanter…”

**\-- Weeks Later --**

“Good morning Ser Cullen.” Neria offered a faint smile to the Templar standing guard in the corridor. “I didn’t expect to see you out here today.”

Cullen looked down, a muscle flexing in his jaw. “Jorda wanted to spend some time in the practice arena so I agreed to her shift.”

“Well then I guess that makes today my lucky day.”

“Oh?” Cullen glanced up in surprise.

“Yes, I need some help moving some of the stores out for Enchanter Corinth. She recommended I ask the Templar on duty.” Now she was grinning, but she couldn’t help it. He had the most adorable blush. “Come now Ser Cullen, I promise not to use any of my feminine wiles or magic on you.” She flashed a wink at him, wondering at her own daring before she turned and headed for the store rooms. 

Cullen waivered a moment, but it was a quiet morning and most of the mages were still asleep. In fact it was uncommon for mages to be up so early, but Neria tended to keep odd hours. It was one of the many things he liked about her. He glanced around the hall once more before he finally moved after her, and if his eyes drifted lower than they should have…well there was no one about to comment on it.

Several hours and more crates than he could count later Cullen collapsed back against the rock face and shook his head. “So when you said ‘a few things’ what you meant was the entire storeroom.” At some point during the moving he’d ditched his plate, stacking it haphazardly near the doorway, though he was still sweating. How the dwarves survived with so little airflow he would never know. 

Flushed and out of breath, Neria shook her head. “No, but I had no idea it was such a disaster in here. Apparently it has been a while since anyone bothered with cataloguing. It’s a wonder we’ve been able to find anything at all.” She mused, her brow furrowing as she moved toward him. “This is much better though, don’t you-” Her foot snagged on a loose burlap sack. With a yelp, she threw her arms out to catch herself, but instead of scraping along the unforgiving floor of the storeroom, she found herself swept up in the simple tunic clad arms of the Templar she wasn’t suppose to like and did. 

“Easy now.” Cullen said, his entire being stilling as he adjusted his grip. “I’ve got you.” He murmured, and when she glanced up at him, her luminescent eyes wide with surprise, something within him calmed. She wasn’t the type for trysts and devious machinations. Despite the magic coursing through her veins, she was an innocent soul. Without thinking he reached up to brush back a stray curl that always managed to escape the simple bun she kept her hair in. Her eyes followed the movement, and then fluttered closed as his hand caressed along her cheek.

The air had seized in her lungs and she couldn’t have drawn breath if she’d wanted to. No dream had ever come close to the tantalizing reality of being in Ser Cullen’s arms. Warmth pierced her entire being, filling her from the inside out. Reaching up she caught his hand, turning her face into is as though she could capture the sensation…hold onto it. A moment like this was unlikely to happen again. 

_Then you should seize the moment_. 

Once that thought slid across her mind, there was no ignoring it. She knew it was true, and when he didn’t pull away from her grasp, she took courage. Whetting her lips, she opened her eyes and met his before she leaned up and brushed her lips across his. 

A butterfly’s wings could not have been softer. Cullen’s grip at her waist firmed as he drew her inexorably closer. He knew of other Templars that visited local brothels, but he’d chosen to keep his focus on the Maker’s work. In that moment though, nothing else the Maker had ever created could have matched up to the perfection of holding Neria in his arms. “Maker forgive me…” he whispered huskily, his own eyes shuttering when her tiny, capable fingers curled into his hair. 

“He will.” Neria breathed, pressing closer.

“Ser Cullen?”

They sprang apart as though lightning had just struck between them. “I’m almost done here Ser Cullen, you ahh… you go ahead.” Neria said quickly, keeping her face half buried in the shelves she’d ended up near. 

“Ahh…right.” Cullen jerked his head, another flush staining his cheeks even as he moved forward hurriedly and gathered up his plate. 

“Are you finished? Enchanter Corinth told me she advised the mage to seek out your help. I can send another to help if you still require assistance?”

“No thank you…I really am almost done. Thank you Ser Cullen. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Of course.” He inclined his chin stiffly, but as he turned away, he knew he would not soon forget the moment.


	2. The Fall of the Tower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What really happened to Cullen before the Warden arrives? Neria encounters him before the Warden and attempts to save him, but to no avail as the demons, and her own strength are pitted against her.

\-- The Fall of the Tower –

This wasn’t happening. “Please Maker, let this all be just a bad dream, that wouldn’t be asking for too much, would it?” Neria tilted her head, listening intently. The screams seemed to go on forever, echoing through the cold stone halls of the circle as though haunted.

She’d been working in the library, reading a volume on earth spells, something she’d discovered a natural affinity for, when the chaos had descended. Her first thought had been to get to the First Enchanter, he would know what was going on. However reaching Irving was proving far more difficult than she’d imagined. 

She opened the storeroom door where she’d taken refuge. She’d forgotten to return the key when she’d been ‘helping’ Jowan, and when the abominations had erupted, slaying an entire room of apprentices and mages, she’d taken cover. She was no enchanter, just a young mage only just discovering her powers. “Okay Neria.” She whispered to herself. “It’s time to stop cowering and just _go_.”

She slid out of the storeroom and began to make her way carefully through the room, stepping delicately over the bodies of her fellow magi. Maker there was so much blood!

Sound erupted in front of her and she jerked, glancing forward in time to see an abomination clamber up, seemingly from the bowels of the earth itself. “There is no point fighting.” It soothed and threatened in the same moment. 

Neria drew her staff forward, angling it before her body as she summoned the rock armor spell she’d been working diligently on. “All the same, I think I’ll try.” She said, pitching her body back as she summoned a bolt of energy from the very essence of the world, and smote the abomination. It screamed, rage and pain fueling it’s approach and she quickly launched an arcane missile at it. In the back of her mind, Irving and Wynne’s voice tutored her to stay calm and in control no matter how emotional she felt. 

With the second volley of lightening the abomination disintegrated, and she wilted back against a bookshelf. “Maker…” Another bloodcurdling scream rent the air and she pushed away from the shelf. If she could take down one, she could take down another. 

She soon lost count of the abominations that fell at her feet, though she found very few magi still alive. “Where is the First Enchanter?”

“Saw them c-carry him out. T-third floor.” One apprentice had stammered before charging down the hall for the stairs to the first floor, and the possible safety of the Templar’s sword. Of course not even Templars were invincible. She glanced at the crumpled form of Ser Broderik and sighed softly. “Maker be with you serah.” She murmured before fathering her courage and continuing toward the fourth floor passage. 

“Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter. Blessed are the peacekeepers…the champions of the just…”

Neria drew up short at the sound of the determined, if strangled prayers. “Cullen?” She blinked at the Templar, who logically she should have expected since he was always on the mage floor and then quickly corrected herself to “Ser Cullen?” She frowned at the strange way the air glowed around him and crept forward.

Cullen didn’t acknowledge her, just rocked forward, his hands dug tightly into his hair as he muttered something intelligible. No doubt more prayers to the Maker, though she had a feeling the Maker was not listening to them today. 

Neria moved up to the field and lifted a hand to it. Energy sparked along her skin, and she hissed softly, withdrawing. “Ser Cullen!” She called again, only to flinch when her call was answered by the rustling of movement behind her. Twisting she searched, but there was nothing there. She hesitated a moment long before finally turning back to try again. “Ser Cullen now is no time to recite the Benediction! You’re not going to die…” She grumbled, stepping back to study the strange magic encasing him. “Not if I can help it.” She added in a mutter. 

Cullen finally glanced up, his eyes sheened with fear. “S-Neria? Is that you?”

“Yes, but what is this field? Why are you here?”

“He’s been waiting on you of course.” A svelte figure shimmered into existence beside her, facing the Templar, her deep voice sultry snaking its way through the air. Like lyrium it intoxicated, drugging the senses and fogging the mind. “She is lovely my pet.” The demon purred. 

Neria raised her staff, backing away. “What have you done?” she demanded.

“I?” The demon laughed, the soft sound lilting through several octaves. “ _I_ have done nothing. This is your doing, not mine.” 

“No.” Neria shook her head. “We cannot hold Templars.”

“ _You_ cannot. There are others of course…stronger, more powerful.” The demon glided forward. “I could give that to you.” A smile curved its lips as she leaned in. “It just takes a _little_ …blood.” 

Its voice was nothing more than a whisper, and yet the words thundered through her mind. Neria lifted her staff, her white-knuckled grip trembling but determined. “The circle does not deal with demons.”

The demon threw its head back, its laugh full of malice. “Oh does it not?” Sparks danced along Neria’s fingertips, and the demon shrugged. “Just as well, you are not the one I want.” She waved a hand dismissively. As if summoned, a pair of abominations sprang forward from the floor, clasping Neria’s arms and pulling her back. 

Neria struggled, but it was obvious her captors were not going to release her. Lifting her chin, she glowered at the demon and vowed, “I will send you back to the Maker himself.” 

“Well at least you have spirit.” The demon mused, her smirk melting into a mirror image that had horror twisting in Neria’s gut. 

“No!”

The demon ignored her, turning back to the trapped Templar. “Ser Cullen I’m going to help free you.” 

Neria renewed her struggles. “You leave him be!” She warned, twisting determinedly at the grips of fire and ice that contained her. 

“Ser Cullen, please! You must listen to me!” The demon entreated.

“How are you still alive?” Cullen asked wearily, slowly regaining his feet as he approached the wall of energy. 

“Most of the fighting has died down, but I had to find you.” The demon whispered, leaning closer to the wall of energy, her body at once trembling and yet sensual. 

“M-me?” Ser Cullen was staring fixedly at the demon wearing her form. “Why?”

A knot of hope hardened in her throat at the sound of his tremulous voice. In that instant she realized that they’d both lain awake dreaming of things that would never be. 

The demon managed a shy smile. “Do you really have to ask?” Cullen took another step forward, his lips compressing as he clearly battled with his own inner conscience. Wiley as ever, the demon quickly retreated, half turning away as she whispered, “I know it can never be, but I had to know you were safe. “

“Even amidst this horror, I should have known you would fight the darkness within you.” Cullen gave the demon one of those rare sweet smiles, and in that moment Neria hated it even more than a priestess of the chantry could ever imagine. 

The demon turned back toward him, and held out her hand. “Just give me your hand. We will rejoin the Templars below.” 

Neria shook her head, drawing on that rage. Energy welled through her being, coalescing in an explosion of sparks that drove the abominations away. “No! Cullen, do not believe her lies!”

Cullen jerked back, his eyes flashing to the sound of her voice and then widening before whipping back to the demon. His face suffused with color even as he backed away from the wall. 

The demon sighed, the disguise melting away. “Now I shall have to deal with you in a permanent manner, and I had such hopes for you.” She purred. 

“Cullen-” The Templar shook his head, his expression drawn and pale. “No, please!” But it was too late, and there was a demon to deal with. Licking her lips, she drew up her staff determinedly. If she was going to save Cullen, then she had to do this. 

She soon lost track of the number of spells she’d cast. Arcane, lightning, fire…it all melded together, and all too soon she was back to relying on her staff as her mana began to flag. Her entire being ached, and she’d never felt so drained. At one point she risked a glance toward the sphere containing Cullen and found his eyes locked on her, his expression unreadable from a distance, but some part of her clung to the hope that worry might have consumed him. 

The demon clucked. “I could have given you that and more. Its not to late you know.” 

“Oh it so fucking is.” Neria growled, and drawing on the last of her reserves, she summoned a bolt of lightning and watched with a great deal of satisfaction as it pierced the demon’s body. Winded and trembling, she sank to the floor. She’d done it. She’d faced a desire demon and lived. 

However, now was not the time to dwell on success. Clambering back to her feet, and leaning heavily on her staff, she hobbled back into the adjoining rom and found Cullen kneeling on the floor once again, head ducked and prayers whispering along his lips. “Ser Cullen…” she called, but she knew the moment his beautiful eyes pierced hers that he didn’t believe what he saw. “Please, you have to listen to me.” She pleaded, raising a bloodied and shaking hand toward the field. “Ser Cullen?”

The Templar shook his head, his expression clearly torn. “I cannot. I _dare_ not. You are a true fiend to torment me in this way, but the Maker will have his vengeance.”

A deep ominous growl resounded through the room, and Neria cursed. There was no time to linger, and she was too tired. She had no fight left in her, not now. Now she needed to rest. “I’ll come back for you.” She promised huskily. 

“Don’t bother. I’ll not believe your lies.” 

She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth to stifle the choked sound of pain that cut through her as he stared through her. The sound grew closer, drawing her attention. She had to get out, and now. Gripping her staff, she turned to flee into the adjoining corridors. She would hide again, rest her being, and then Maker willing, she’d go back and she’d save him whether he wanted to be saved or not!

**\-- Sometime Later --**

Time crept by. She’d managed to hide herself away in one of the smaller private rooms, but the quieter the stones around her grew, the more worried she became. At some point she nodded off, and now her muscles cramped from being curled up so tight, and her spirit yearned for rest.

She was awakened by whispers. Her first instinct was to jump up and alert them. She recognized several of the voices, all of them were mages and apprentices she knew. Caution stayed her body, and she strained to hear them. The topic of conversation was hushed at first but soon they grew cocky, talking boldly amongst one another, and the subject: blood magic. That was frightening enough, but the determination to exterminate the Templars concerned her more. She knew that many of her fellow mages would consider her a traitor to the magi, but she believed in the Templars. No one deserved absolute power beyond the Maker himself. Everyone served a purpose, including the Templars. 

Of course honesty had her admitting that her first thought was not the Knight Commander Gregoir and his men below, but Cullen, and the danger that the ones she’d once called friends now posed. 

“I should have known. The Knight Commander will see to every last one of you. If he hasn’t already called for an annulment, he soon will.” A new voice thundered, the fury and disgust unmistakable in his voice. Ser Braedyn had never made himself many friends amongst the magi and apparently he’d missed that they were waging the most dangerous kind of war possible. “Men, spare no one.” 

Someone from within the room laughed. Chills raced down her spine. That was no human laugh. “Long have I waited for the chance to tear into you. I shall quite enjoy this.” 

Energy crackled through the air and Neria sucked in a deep breath. She couldn’t just sit there. They’d massacre one another, and she couldn’t live with that on her conscience. Struggling to her feet, her muscles stiff and cold she took a deep breath and then charged out, rushing to place herself before the Templars. “No!” She shouted, facing the magis. “Can you not see that this is folly?” She pleaded. 

She noted some surprise in the faces of those that recognized her, clearly surprised to find that she was there and alive but she didn’t give them time to dwell on that. “Kial, we’ve spoken at great length and I know you don’t approve of blood magic. Why would you do this?”

“This isn’t about me. This is about us and them. We won’t be subjugated any longer for a power the maker gave us. It is wrong.”

“And killing is right?” She demanded, ignoring the way the Templars shifted behind her. 

“You waste your breath, they’ve already called for an annulment. It is no longer a choice Neria. It is us, or it is them.” Someone else argued. 

She opened her mouth to argue, but Kial had apparently had enough talk for he raised his hands, flames dancing along his fingertips. Neria threw herself forward, knocking Ser Braedyn out of the way. She took the full blast of the shot, and realized her mistake too late. All of her protective spells had worn off. The flames licked along her arms and midsection, and the smell of burnt flesh was unmistakable. 

The Templars roared, charging forward. 

Braedyn shifted, scrambling around, his eyes wide. “Why would you do something so stupid?” he demanded, his hatred of mages clearly forgotten in the face of her sacrifice. 

“We’re not all bad Ser Braedyn…but the circle is lost. Please, get your men out of here.” She gasped, the pain obvious though she made no other sound. Instead she gripped his sleeve and added, “Ser Cullen…he is alive and alone. I k-killed some of the demons tormenting him, but I was not strong enough to…” she trembled, her words slow and soft as she struggled to stay awake. “He is in danger.” She whispered before the pain and exhaustion sucked her deep into the fade and far from the nightmare she’d been trying to survive.


	3. Leaving...Wisdom or Cowardice?

**\-- One Week Later --**

“I still do not agree with the warden’s decision.” Cullen grumbled. 

“Whether you agree or not, it is done. She says the tower is safe, and I’m inclined to believe her. It was clear on that first day that she did not leave many standing.”

“That is not the point! If you had seen-” He paused, his brows furrowing. “Where is Ser Braedyn headed off to again with those poultices?”

“He has been helping with the wounded.”

“So have we all, but none so diligent as Ser Braedyn.” Cullen shifted, his head tilting slightly. “Are there mages in there?” He asked, suspicion coloring his tone. 

Gregoir sighed and glanced at the other Templar. “Yes Cullen. There are Templars and mages alike in there, and it is a place of healing, but if you are so concerned you are welcome to go and have a look. I have made my decision though, so whatever you are hoping to convince me of, the time has past.”

Cullen gritted his teeth, closing his eyes. The knight commander didn’t understand, how could he? Taking a deep breath, he rolled his shoulders, the plate of his armor clanking before he stalked forward, following Braedyn.

The secondary hall had been converted into a small ward of wounded and sick. Not surprisingly most of the patients were Templars. The majority of the mages had been slain. The array of wounds was a testament to the dangers of mages. Electrocution, burns, frostbite, and shattered bones were the most prevalent, but he knew some were tormented by visions and sickness that would likely never be cured. 

He almost regretted his decision to follow Braedyn, but the Templar remained single-minded in his purpose as he moved through the beds, so Cullen followed him. When he finally stopped and knelt down beside a bed, Cullen’s eyes narrowed. Did Braedyn have a lover? Shifting so he could get a look at the female on the bed, he stilled. 

“Braedyn…” he licked his lips, his eyes locked on that silken white gold hair that he remembered being soft to the touch. “What have you done?”

Braedyn glanced back in surprise and then scowled, turning back to his patient. “She saved my life Cullen. I know how you feel about the mages now, but I don’t care. You can just sod off. She’s not like those in the tower.”

“I saw her.” Cullen hissed. 

“Fuck what you saw Cullen. Everyone knows you were tortured, no tellin’ how much of what you saw was truth and how much was made up. I didn’t just see, I experienced. We were facing off a group of blood mages. You could hear them plannin’ from the stairs, and we had to do something.” He looked down at the young woman and shook his head. “I ain’t ever been nice to her. I know she remembered me. Didn’t stop her from chargin’ out of her hiding place. Planted herself between us and them.” 

He laughed and shook his head. “Even tried ta’ talk them down. Then one of them, tired of listenin’ to her I guess, gets ready to cast and she moved.” He stared at her pale face. “Didn’t know a woman could move so fast. She took the full brunt of the spell. I think that surprised her. She musta’ had spells up to protect herself and they wore off or something.” He glanced back at Cullen to add, “She agrees with you though. Said the circle had fallen and that annulment was the only option.” He shook his head turning back to his patient. “No possessed mage would have said that Cullen.” 

He was drowning in a flood of emotions. To easily he recalled the last time she’d seen him, bloodied and desperate, but determined…to save him. He’d turned away though because he hadn’t been able to see past that damnable demon and the desires that had been far to real. How many times had it replayed that single kiss? That one moment of weakness had all but damned him, and giving in had been almost too tempting. “Has she woken at all?”

Braedyn shook his head. “No. First Enchanter Irving said it could be a few days or a few weeks. She was fairly well spent. He thinks she must’a been up there fighting for hours to have survived alone. She may even be lost in the fade. Not like the Warden though.” He picked up the poultice he’d brought in and carefully placed it on her chest along her collarbone. “I aim to wait though. She saved my life, and if this is all I can do in payment, then it will have ta’ do.” 

Cullen nodded stiffly and took a step back. Once again he felt robbed of words, though this time it was his own doing. He considered the fragile beauty on the cot and knew he had to get away. If she awoke he’d never be able to endure seeing her. Not now…when she was even more perfect than he’d ever imagined. 

“Ser Cullen?” Braedyn glanced back at the other Templar. “I owe you an apology.”

He wasn’t sure he could take any more surprises. “Oh?”

“I knew you were up there. She told me she’d killed some of the demons, but that there were others.” He looked down, clearly ashamed and said, “But I ordered my men to retreat. There were just so many…”

He closed his eyes, agony ripping through him. “You did the right thing Ser Braedyn. No apology needed.”

His eyes flashed one last time to Neria’s sleeping countenance, as though memorizing it before he turned to stalk from the ward. It was time to speak with Gregoir…time to leave. 

**\-- That Afternoon --**

“I’m sorry Cullen, but you are needed here. The blight grows closer to our doors every day. We need strength now more than ever.”

Cullen shook his head. “You do not seem to understand. I cannot stay here. Besides the warden was not here for Templar aid. She wanted the mages-”

“Whom we are responsible for.”

“Andraste’s holy knickers, would you just listen to-”

“Ser Cullen!”

Cullen flushed, glancing at the reverend mother standing nearby. Closing his eyes, he sighed and counted slowly before facing the knight commander again. “Please…send me anywhere…but I cannot…not here.”

Gregoir’s eyes narrowed shrewdly. “Why? Give me one solid reason and I will grant your request.”

The confession danced along his tongue, and he almost gave it voice, but at the last moment he clamped down, his lips compressing. Finally he said stiffly, “Trust is an integral part of our duty…” He shifted, choosing his words carefully so that they did not make a liar of him, “There is no mage now within the circle that I can offer such to. “ It wasn’t entirely truth or lie since Neria was well beyond any of them at the moment.

Gregoir pursed his lips for a moment, absently fingering his chin before he finally glanced at the reverend mother. She inclined her chin slightly and he nodded. “Very well. I believe I know of just the posting. Collect your things and be ready to leave in the morning. If this is to happen, it must be now before the blight spreads any thicker, else you’ll be lost to the horde and that would serve no one.”

“Thank you Knight Commander…Reverend Mother.” He bowed faintly to both, pivoted sharply and marched from hall. 

In less than an hour he’d packed away his things into a single trunk. He had very little in the way of personal affects. There seemed no point in collecting things. Intent on leaving everything that could remind him of his failures, he made his way back to the mage floor, and headed for Neria’s rooms. He knew that the tiny sash had probably meant nothing to her, but he’d kept it twined up in his room for more than a year. 

It could not go with him. 

Grateful that the mage quarters were still empty, he made his way to her bed. It took three attempts before he actually managed to settle the sash on the bed. In his haste to turn away he knocked the pillows askew and his gaze caught on an odd bit of leather. Frowning, he paused to glance over his shoulder before he bent forward to nudge the pillow farther along the bed. His insides melted at the sight of a gauntlet he’d searched for on more than a few occasions. It was far more worn than its mate, attesting to the amount of time she’d likely held it. Cold hard logic told him to take the glove. Leaving it could do nothing but offer heartache. The knowledge that she would have (and wanted) a part of him outweighed logic and he reached out to pull the pillows back into place. He considered them silently and then finally muttered, “Maker forgive me…” Grabbing the sash he balled it up and stalked from the room. 

**\-- Small Hours Before Dawn --**

He’d not bothered to try and sleep. There was no rest to be had here anymore and he knew it. So he’d patrolled, eaten a light repast and then just wondered the halls, letting his memories solidify his decision. 

At least until he wound his way back to the hall of the sick. He was about to force himself onward when a young priestess stepped out. 

“Oh good. I need to fetch a few supplies. Would you mind patrolling within until I return? I should not be to long.”

He almost told her no, but he had no reason to refuse her. Offering her a grimacing smile, he turned and headed into the ward. He did an admirable job of weaving through the beds and avoiding the corner where she rested. However the longer it took the priestess to return, the harder it was to ignore. 

Soon he found himself standing beside her bed, peering down at her and trying to understand how she’d even survived without giving over to the allure of blood magic. Shifting he knelt beside the cot and reached out to touch her cheek, It was cool, devoid of the flush and heat that always seemed to fill them. “I’m sorry I doubted you.” He murmured, relishing that tiny caress. “It will be best this way. Nothing good could come of our feelings and we both know that.” 

He remained there, lightly caressing his thumb along her cheek until he realized that the first tendrils of light were dancing along her face. Shaking himself, he started to stand, and then deviated. Leaning forward, he returned the kiss she’d offered him what seemed ages ago now. As light as their first, he barely let his lips touch hers before he was withdrawing. “Maker protect you.” He breathed hoarsely before he turned to stalk determinedly through the ward. It was almost dawn, and he was ready. More time would only make him question his decisions, and he knew he was right. 

There was nothing for him at the Fereldan circle but pain and temptation, and the sooner he left, the sooner he could begin forcing himself to believe exactly that…


End file.
